


it's not weak if you need to be held

by bellawritess



Series: mashton prompts [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Band Fic, Cuddling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27708811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess
Summary: It’s not that Michael isn’t used to crowds. His entire career relies on crowds. And he’s been to too many concerts not to know how to navigate a wall of people, and nine times out of ten, he’sfine,really. He doesn’t need any special care and keeping. He’s a grown man, and he can handle himself.Most of the time, that is. Sometimes, though, his head feels loud, and the screaming girls make it louder, and everyone is far too close, and Michael wants to tear off his own skin and disappear into the sewers.Today is one of those.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin
Series: mashton prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026598
Kudos: 9





	it's not weak if you need to be held

**Author's Note:**

> **prompt:** "don't be scared, i'm right here." 
> 
> [tumblr link!](https://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/post/620125236755644416/86-with-mashton)
> 
> title from take care of yourself by maisie peters

Michael remembers a conversation he’d had with Louis back when they were touring with One Direction. They’d just gotten through a big crowd of people to get to the hotel, and One Direction’s relentless security detail had kept most of the crazed fans out of arm’s reach, but nevertheless Niall had vanished to the bathroom as soon as they’d gotten in the hotel. Michael had frowned, watching him.

“Is he okay?” he’d asked Louis.

“He’s just a bit claustrophobic. Not great with small spaces, big crowds. He’ll be alright in a few.” And then Louis had huffed a laugh and added, “Probably picked the wrong job, but what can you do?”

Niall had come out of the bathroom a minute later, as predicted, and Liam had rushed over, and Niall had waved him off with an uneasy grin, and that had been that.

Now Michael kind of wants to call Niall and ask how he’d done it.

It’s not that Michael isn’t used to crowds. His entire career relies on crowds. And he’s been to too many concerts not to know how to navigate a wall of people, and nine times out of ten, he’s _fine_ , really. He doesn’t need any special care and keeping. He’s a grown man, and he can handle himself.

Most of the time, that is. Sometimes, though, his head feels loud, and the screaming girls make it louder, and everyone is far too close, and Michael wants to tear off his own skin and disappear into the sewers.

Today is one of those.

It starts bad enough, because when Michael wakes up he wants to go back to sleep forever, and it’s only Calum’s insistent prodding at his shoulder and loud, annoying wake-up calls that drag him sluggishly out of bed. He knows he’s not doing a very good job convincing anyone that he’s okay, and Ashton gives him several concerned looks, but Michael waves him off. He doesn’t need taking care of. He _shouldn’t_. He’s an adult.

Most of today is traveling, anyway, so Michael holes up in his bunk, ignoring the various texts coming in from his bandmates — mostly Ashton — asking after his mental health in favor of playing Minecraft. He listens to music but nothing feels right; he tries to be productive, to maybe reply to some Tweets or something, anything, but he doesn’t want to come across as uncaring, so eventually he throws down his phone in frustration and just takes a nap.

When he wakes up, it’s because the bus has stopped and Ashton has pulled aside the drape to say, “Mikey, we’re here.”

Michael blinks up at Ashton. He’s still tired — he feels _endlessly_ tired — but he gets out of bed and follows Ashton out. Luke and Calum are nowhere to be found, but they’ve probably already been escorted into the hotel, so Michael’s not worried. Then they step out of the tour bus, and Michael loses the capacity to be worried about anyone or anything else, because there are _so many people_ and they’re all _screaming_ and _yelling_ and _shrieking_ and some of them are throwing things and Michael feels his heart racing furiously against his chest, frozen at the entrance of the tour bus, until there are hands pushing against him. Michael jerks away but the hands come back and then Ashton says quietly, “Don’t be scared, I’m right here. Just keep walking.” So Michael walks and watches his feet and tries to resist the instinct to squeeze his eyes shut and start crying right there, and then they shove through the door and they’re in the hotel lobby and it’s over.

Michael turns around and wraps his arms around Ashton. Ashton hugs him back, warm and sturdy and comforting as he always is, and says nothing, just rubs circles against Michael’s back until Michael feels like his heartbeat is back to a roughly standard pace.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I froze.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Ashton says immediately, and though his tone is gentle there’s a fierce undercurrent in his words. “I shouldn’t have — I should have warned you.”

“It’s not your job to take care of me,” Michael says into Ashton’s shoulder. Ashton is quiet for a moment, and Michael knows he’s thinking that it _is_ his job. Because Ashton is just like that. Ashton has always been the first to take up the defense of Michael’s heart and soul, the founding member of the Protect Michael Clifford Club.

“I want to,” Ashton says. 

Michael exhales, face tucked into Ashton’s neck. “Okay.”

“Do you want to go to your room?” Ashton asks. Michael nods. “Do you want to share with me?” Another nod. “Okay. I’ll tell Calum.”

Michael waits by the elevator while Ashton sorts out the rooms, and then they both go up, and Ashton unlocks their door. Michael trudges in, feeling heavy and exhausted, and crawls into bed, on top of the comforter, kicking his shoes off as he goes. Ashton lies down next to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ashton asks. Michael shakes his head. “Okay. If you do, I’m here.”

“Stay here?” Michael asks, feeling embarrassingly childish, but Ashton just smiles that soft, sweet smile of his, and leans in to kiss Michael’s forehead.

“Of course,” he says. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Maybe,” Michael says. There’s not really any reason to stay up, even though it’s only nine p.m., but he would feel badly keeping Ashton here for hours while Luke and Calum probably have a super fun night in their room. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I just said I would,” Ashton says, as if he’s annoyed, but the fondness in his tone betrays otherwise. “I want to be here.”

Michael wants to say a million things — like _you shouldn’t have to take care of me_ and _I shouldn’t need protecting_ and _why would you stay with me when you could be somewhere else doing something more fun_ and _I can’t believe you like me when I’m like this_ — but all of those are ugly thoughts, and he closes his eyes and counts to ten and then opens them, and all he can see is Ashton, watching him.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“Yeah, you are,” Ashton says, smiling. “Come on, turn over. You can be little spoon.”

Michael does. He’s not usually the little spoon, but he feels calmer in Ashton’s arms than he has all day, and he falls asleep despite his midday nap with the warm promise of Ashton’s body next to him, like a rock, a guardian angel.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading <3 i'm on tumblr [@clumsyclifford](http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/) so come say hey!


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